Count Your Blessings
by KatFenn
Summary: *The standard disclaimers apply* What happens when your past comes back to bite you in the behind? Stringfellow Hawke is now older and wiser, but how will he react when an unexpected phone call brings up issues that he thought he dealt with in the past? This is inspired by a comment made by Riversong650 and the recent National Enquirer article/interview of Jan-Michael Vincent.
1. Chapter 1

**Count Your Blessings**

**By Kat Fenn**

A/N: Thank you, Riversong650, for the comments which lit the fire!

A/N 2: To JMV, wherever you are, I'm so sorry to hear about your troubles. I hope your life gets a little easier. Thank you for the life you brought to Stringfellow Hawke.

**Chapter 1**

Stringfellow Hawke sighed as he saw strands of sandy brown hair mixed with strands of grey in his comb. Balling up the loose strands of hair, he crossed over to the toilet and flushed them down. Turning to the mirror, he looked at himself with a critical eye. His mop of sandy brown hair, now salt and pepper seemed to be thinner than what he remembered, but he wasn't quite bald or balding – not yet. His steel blue eyes, although surrounded by deeper lines, seemed to be as alert as ever. His tanned skin stretched a little more loosely along his cheekbones. Fine lines had appeared around his lips, but overall, not too bad. "Not bad for someone who's almost 60," he said aloud.

The ears of the brown and white mutt lying in the corner pricked up at the sound of his master's voice. Turning to his dog, String smiled. "We're getting older, not old, my boy." He thought wistfully of his dog, Tet, who had died ten years ago. His replacement, Trouble, had been with him for the past nine years, and was as independent as Tet ever was. Trouble seemed to be equally at home at the cabin, and at the little townhouse that String shared with Dom during the week.

Pulling a comfortable golf shirt over his head, String slipped his feet into his favourite moccasins and padded softly downstairs to turn the percolator on. As he busied himself in the kitchen, his still-keen hearing picked up the sounds of his best friend unmistakeably stirring from sleep. Pouring the steaming coffee into two mugs, he made his way to the downstairs bedroom that Dom occupied.

Poking his head round the door, String grinned at his friend. "Coffee and some company?"

"Mamma mia, who the hell are you and what have you done to Stringfellow Hawke?" ribbed Dom, as he pushed the covers away.

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAW**

"You know what, String, I kinda miss Cait on days like this," as Dom put a cup of coffee down by String's elbow.

Deciding that the recalcitrant bolt could wait till he had a coffee break, String put the screwdriver down on the workbench. Surreptitiously stretching his lower back, he swivelled on his work chair to face Dom. "Yeah. She always used to sing along to the radio as she worked in the hangar, and I used to tell her to stick to her day job."

"And she always kept the coffee pot going, too."

"But somehow always missed out on the last mugful?"

Both String and Dom laughed at the memory. "It's been a while since I spoke to her. I take it you've spoken to her, Dom?" asked String, as he sipped his coffee.

"Yeah, she's doing fine. She still misses Trevor, but the grandkids are keeping her busy. She says she's still flying, dusting crops for the neighbours, and still riding that little dirt bike you cleaned up for her. She asked when you were gonna call, String," admonished Dom gently.

"Yeah. Just too many memories, Dom. Some days I can smile about the times we shared, and some days the regret just eats me up."

"Hey, at least we still have Santini Air! And we're both still flying…"

"Yeah." String grinned up at Dom. Nearly ninety, Dom was still in good health and good spirits. He had just been given a clean bill of health from the doctor yesterday, in preparation for his annual pilot licence renewal. And so had String. The two of them continued to do charters and teach students, but their days of stunt flying had been over for a while. Ever since Cait had announced that she was needed back at her parent's ranch, Dom had consulted with String and the both of them had decided that they would scale Santini Air down – the other alternative would have been to bring in someone younger, but Dom had been very reluctant to give up management of Santini Air. So the decision had been made, and Cait had left. String missed her terribly, and even thought of going after her and getting her to come back to California, but then had come the news of her being engaged to a neighbour, Trevor. String remembered the feeling of his heart shattering into tiny pieces as he fought to keep a tight lid on his emotions. He had buried himself in his work and tried to forget about her, but for months afterwards something small and seemingly insignificant would bring back memories of her.

"Earth to String!" bellowed Dom's voice in his ear.

"Sorry, Dom," said String, shaking himself out of his reverie. "I was just thinking about Cait."

"Yeah, well, no point crying over spilt milk," said Dom. "You know, you COULD just go and see her."

"Yeah, I could."

The shrill ring of the telephone interrupted their conversation. "You're closer," said String, picking up his screwdriver again.

Dom shrugged his shoulders as he reached towards the telephone hanging on the side of the hangar wall.

"Santini Air."

"Hi, I'm looking for Stringfellow Hawke?"

"Sure, he's right here," said Dom, nudging String and putting the receiver where he could hold it to his ear.

"This is Hawke," said String, smiling his thanks at Dom.

"Hi, Mr Hawke? This is Michelle speaking. I've been trying to track you down, I think I'm your daughter."

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAW**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

String sat stock still, in shock. He could hear a voice in his right ear but he couldn't quite make out what it was saying. He could feel the vinyl of the seat underneath him, but at the same time couldn't tell if he was standing or sitting. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing, but he felt strangely calm. He could hear his own voice whispering things he couldn't quite make out – almost like it was in a foreign language.

"Mr Hawke? Are you still there?"

Coming back to himself, String started, almost violently. "Ahem, hello. Sorry, Michelle was it? Can I call you right back?"

"I suppose that's fine. Can I give you my cellphone number?"

"Yeah, sure." String automatically reached for the pencil and pad that lived next to the office phone. He scratched the numbers on the pad and said goodbye in a voice that didn't sound like his own.

"String? You OK?" Dom asked, worriedly. Although his hearing wasn't that fantastic any more, he detected a strange note in String's voice as he said goodbye. The fact that his friend was sitting, staring into space, the receiver still in his right hand, was also not like the no-nonsense Stringfellow Hawke that he knew.

"I'm fine, Dom."

"Who was that?"

"This….girl….she said her name was Michelle."

"So, what spooked you? I haven't seen you like that before!" said Dom, almost shouting in his anxiety.

"She said she was my daughter." His voice was flat, emotionally detached. String's eyes held a steely grin and his lips were set in a grim line. The muscles in his jaw worked as he ground his teeth.

"Mamma Mia!"

"Yeah."

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAW**

Dom looked up from his desk as he heard the front door slam. "_God give me the strength_," he thought to himself. He heard footsteps coming up the passageway and then heading into the hangar. "Well, here goes," he said out loud, heaving himself out of his comfortable office chair. Making his way into the hangar, he found String pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Not now, Dom."

Holding his hands up in surrender, Dom backed away, sensing that his friend needed space. "OK, OK, I hear you. But this isn't a bad thing, String. I can see from the look on your face that you've already written this off as a bad thing. Just please, try to be positive?"

"I need time to think. Do you mind if I take the Jet Ranger to the cabin?"

"No. But take Trouble with you."

"No thanks. I'd rather be alone."

Dom shook his head as he turned away. If String didn't want even Trouble with him, he must really be in a bad way. He wished that Cait was here. She seemed to be the only one who could pull him out of his dark moods – her and Tet. Much as he knew String loved and respected him, he also knew that it would take a lot more to pull him out of this abyss. He could feel it in his gut.

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAW**

"Is Mr Hawke there, please?"

Dom swallowed hard. He wasn't sure what to say, he was sure that this was the mysterious caller that put String in the deep hole he was in.

"Hi, sorry, this is Dominic Santini. Mr Hawke isn't here at the moment, he's away from the hangar. Can I maybe take a message for him, or help you?"

"Oh. I'm not sure what message to leave, to be honest. I spoke to him yesterday and he said he'd call me back, but I haven't heard from him. I….I….I…" Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

Softening his tone, Dom tried to soothe her. "He's actually not reachable right now. But if you give me your name and your number I'll make sure he'll get your message."

"Thank you, Mr Santini. It's Michelle speaking, and my number is 238-555-6467. Thank you." Not trusting herself to say any more, Michelle quickly cut the call. Much as she tried to keep her emotions in check, a sob escaped before she could bite down on her lip.

Dom shook his head as he cradled the receiver. String had been gone all night without so much as a peep. He decided that String had wallowed long enough. Heading back into the office, he walked over to the radio.

"Santini Air to Hawke at Eagle Lake, come in Eagle Lake."

Dom waited a few moments before flicking the switch with his thumb and repeating his call.

After six tries, the receiver crackled to life.

"Hawke to Santini Air. Whaddaya want, Dom?"

"How about a Big Mac and a side of fries?" ribbed Dom, keeping his tone light.

"Fresh out of those."

"OK, OK. Are you done being the original hermit of the mountain and ready to come back to civilisation?"

"Not yet." String struggled to keep his tone civil.

"You haven't called Michelle back, have you?"

"No."

"She's called again looking for you."

"Fine."

"You gotta talk to her sometime, String. What is it that you are so afraid of?"

String was silent.

"You still alive?" Dom asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah."

"I'm comin' up there."

"Fine. Hawke out."

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAW**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Morning, Dom."

"Well, look who's back in the land of the living!"

"Yeah." A cold, wet nose pushed into his hand, burrowing into the warmth. String smiled as he affectionately patted Trouble and pulled gently at his ears. "How's things going, Dom?"

"Fine, fine. I'm glad you're back, I'm taking a charter this afternoon and it would help if you could hold down the fort."

"I can do that."

Dom smiled to himself. He hoped that String would come to his senses and call the girl who thought she was his daughter, once he had time to think. He knew that String didn't have a phone at the cabin, and would have either had to come into the hangar or back to the townhouse they shared in order to make the phone call. He turned to tidy up the papers on his desk, fully intending to get out of String's way so that he could make his call in private. He knew that once String had made up his mind about something, he would do it, and given the current mood String was in, the chances were higher. He had spent a few hours nursing a whiskey with String the afternoon before, virtually in silence, on the cabin porch. String had seemed to be lost in thought. "So m_aybe my visit did him a world of good,"_ thought Dom contentedly to himself.

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA**

String waited till the sound of the Santini Air Jet Ranger died away before he pulled the phone towards him. This was a moment he was dreading. Taking a deep breath, he decided that it was now or never. Just as he was about to pick up the phone, it rang.

"Santini Air!"

"Hi there, my name is Samantha, could I speak to the Procurement Manager about your printing needs please?"

"No thanks!" "_And buzz off_!" he added silently to himself. String fumbled in his pocket for the telephone number he had scribbled down. As he turned to the keypad, he realised that Dom had left a bright yellow Post-It note with the number he was about to dial written in Dom's characteristic scrawl. He punched in the numbers carefully, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"Michelle speaking, hello."

"Hi Michelle, it's Stringfellow Hawke."

"Hi Mr Hawke…"her voice trailed away uncertainly.

"My friends call me String."

"I'm not exactly your friend….String?"

"Close enough. Listen, I don't really like talking on the phone. Is there any way we can meet and talk face to face?"

"I live in San Diego, which isn't too far away."

"That's fine, I can fly in to meet you."

"How about this weekend, Mr Haw….errrr….String? Maybe Saturday morning, say around 10am? I can meet you at the Fallbrook Community Park Heliport and we can get a cup of coffee and talk, if that's OK with you. Do you need directions?"

"Saturday morning's fine. I don't need directions."

"I'll be there with a sign with your name on," said Michelle.

"I'll see you then." String cradled the receiver and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole situation. He had wrestled with himself while he was at the cabin, and decided that he needed to know the truth. He had no way of knowing if this girl was actually his daughter, but he knew that if he walked away from this, he would regret it for the rest of his life. And after Cait had left, he had promised himself that he would not regret anything else, ever. He wondered what she was like, and who her mother was – it bothered him a little that one of the women who shared his bed had had his child without even bothering to inform him. Yes, he knew that in his checkered past that he had been very guarded with his emotional attachments, but surely he hadn't been THAT guarded? After all, most of the women he had been with had been to the cabin, and knew that he worked at Santini Air. He mentally catalogued each of the women he had been with, wondering which of them could be the mother of his supposed daughter. He sat in the comfortable chair, lost in thought.

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

String absently took a sip out of the cup of coffee he was holding. It had been an interesting two hours. At first he thought that it would be awkward and tense, but from the moment he laid eyes on Michelle there was an instant bond between them. He felt comfortable around her, and when she invited him to her little apartment for the promised coffee he felt no hesitation in saying yes.

Two hours ago, the two of them had sat down on the sofa he was still sitting on. Michelle had poured out coffee for both of them, then excused herself, coming back bearing a shoebox. Opening the box, Michelle had rifled through the contents before handing him a laminated sheet of paper.

"This is what started the whole thing off," she said, by way of explanation.

String had looked down at the document he held. It looked to be an extract from the Register of Births. The birth of a Michelle Rodgers to…Tess Rodgers. He had swallowed a lump in his throat. The name of the father was UNKNOWN.

"So how did this lead you to me?" he had asked, keeping his tone neutral.

"Well, String, I never knew who my real parents were. The people whom I thought were my parents told me when I was twelve that I was adopted. Up till then, I had never seen that birth certificate before in my life – somehow I had never needed it for school or anything like that. When they told me, I was more than a little shocked, but I was happy as I was and told my adoptive parents that they were the only parents I knew. I then tried to push it to the back of my mind and forget it, and I did that….almost successfully…until about six months ago."

String had looked at her quizzically. He knew that he was guilty of compartmentalising problems, issues, things he didn't want to think about and burying them so deep at the back of HIS mind that it took a lot of effort to dredge them up again. Michelle's steel blue eyes, not unlike his, stared back at him.

"What happened then?" he had asked.

"I got a call from a hospice in Austin, Texas. The lady told me that my biological mother was on her deathbed and wanted to see me."

"So you went there."

"Yes. I couldn't remember much about her, but when I was shown into her room and took her hand, she started to cry. She said she didn't have much time left, and had something important to tell me."

"And she told you that you were mine?" String, as always, was economic with his words.

"Well, she told me your name, and how the two of you got together, and some details about dates. She gave me this to give to you," added Michelle, picking up a ring from the box and handing it to String.

String had held the ring between his fingers and peered at it. It did indeed look familiar, like the one that he had given Tess when she had told him she was pregnant. Wanting to be sure, he had looked on the inside of the band, to read the inscription. "Tess & String," he had read out loud, together with the year.

"She also told me about her life, what she did after she left you, and how she eventually met Cullen Dixon and moved down to Austin with him. And how she ended up in the hospice after Cullen was put died in prison, and about my half-brother Jack, who was killed in action, about a year ago."

"She never told me whether she had ever had you. I got the impression that she terminated you." String had frowned as he tried to remember the details of the single private conversation he had with Tess while he was assigned to deliver her to a Senate hearing, almost a lifetime ago.

"Well, there's only one way to find out," said Michelle, pulling out a plastic pack from the shoebox.

"A paternity test?"

"Yeah."

String had looked into Michelle's eyes and saw the same determination etched on her face that he had seen when he looked in the mirror countless times. He began to feel a spark of hope that he allowed to flicker. Maybe, just maybe, she could be his. And maybe, just maybe, this could be the family he had been hoping for.

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

String held the slim white envelope in his hand. His eyes narrowed as he took in the Universal Genetics logo emblazoned in blue on the top left hand corner.

"Well, are you gonna open it? Or you gonna stare at it all day?" bellowed Dom in his right ear.

Glaring at Dom, String reached for the letter opener in the stationery holder on the desk. He savagely ripped at the envelope and yanked out the single sheet it held. His face was an unreadable mask as he turned to Dom. "Here, read for yourself," he said, as he handed the sheet to Dom.

Dom looked incredulously at his friend. "So she really is yours!"

"Yeah."

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA**

"So what do you do, exactly?" asked Michelle, lying back in the little dinghy, fishing pole in hand.

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Mostly I help out at Santini Air – charters, students, that sort of thing."

"And you live out here?"

"Well, I used to, but after Tet died and Cait left, the cabin just had too many memories, so I moved into town with Dom. Besides, I figured that Dom needed company."

"So it wasn't Trouble that needed company?" giggled Michelle, nudging String with her right big toe.

String grinned. "Well, that too."

"I heard from Dom that the two of you used to fly stunts?"

"Yeah. But that was when it was me, Dom… and Cait."

"So what happened to Cait?"

String mentally shrugged his shoulders. "It's a long story, Michelle."

"I'm not going anywhere."

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA**

"Hey, for someone that says he doesn't like talking, you've talked non-stop for hours," said Michelle, as they trudged up the path towards the cabin, a fistful of trout in each hand.

"Your turn, Michelle. So I've told you all about my life, you owe me your story."

"Hang on, you've told me what happened, but I haven't asked all my why's yet!"

"You're going to be the death of me, arent'cha?" said String dryly.

"Hey, think of it as all these lost years we're making up for."

"God give me strength," said String, ducking as Michelle playfully swung her handful of trout at him.

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA**

String sat back on the couch with an ice-cold beer in his hand. He could hear Michelle singing in the shower. "_Nice voice_," he thought to himself. "_Wonder if she's musical_?" He smiled as he remembered Tess' tuneless singing in the shower. He let his thoughts drift, and the next thing he knew, he was dozing lightly.

He found himself back at the Firm. It was the day of Michael's retirement, and himself, Cait and Dom had been invited to the party. He remembered the wry smile Dom had sent his way when Michael had enveloped him in a big bear hug – and Cait dissolving into helpless giggles. That was also the day that he had decided to return Airwolf to the FIRM. The Lady had been going for a good ten years, and it was time for an overhaul – and besides, he was then 45, and combat was a young man's game. St John's remains had been returned to him, and DNA testing had proved that this was his long-lost brother, so he had carefully interred the remains in the empty plot next to his father and mother and consigned his memories to the back of his mind. He did find out, at some point, what had happened to St John – he had escaped from the POW camp one time too many, and was dragged back and tortured till his poor, battered body could take no more. The call had come from the Army the week before the party, and the casket and dog tags had arrived the day before.

Fast forward to the day that Cait had decided that she was going back to Texas for good. He remembered looking at the shock of red hair as she had hugged Dom and wondering why he had been so blind to the grey strands that he could now see clearly. She had hugged him tightly, and whispered in his ear that she would miss him and she hoped he understood. He still remembered the pain in his gut, almost like he had been sucker-punched. He remembered waving goodbye at the airport, as both him and Dom had insisted on flying her to LAX themselves. And blinking back bitter tears as Dom had put his strong arm round his friend's shoulders.

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA**

"Hey, String," said a gentle voice in his right ear.

String instantly came awake. "Cait?"

"No, sorry, it's only Michelle. Can I pour you a wine or something while I start supper?"

String smiled up at his daughter. "Yeah, there should be some good bottles down behind the bar. Pick your favourite and I'll meet you in the kitchen. Let your old man show you how to cook a good fish dinner."

Michelle smiled as she made her way over to the bar, tucked underneath the frame of the staircase which wound its way upwards to the bedrooms. She remembered that her father had told her about how he had added on two extra guest rooms when both Cait and Dom both claimed that they were too old to spend the night on the floor, or on his worn sofas. She felt comfortable around him, and was enjoying his company. Besides getting to know him, and indeed she did welcome the opportunity as she only managed to spend a few short hours with her biological mother before she had passed on, she felt as if the pieces of her life were finally falling into place. Why she reacted a certain way to situations, her love for aeronautics, music and her sensitivity towards the beauty in the arts in general all made sense to her as she got to know her father. She could tell that he was also enjoying her company, but wondered if he would make her part of his life, as she longed to make him part of hers.

Pouring the wine into two glasses, she made her way carefully into the kitchen. Electricity had been added to the little cabin over the years, but String still preferred to do his cooking on his wood-fed stove. Setting the glasses down on the kitchen counter, Michelle had impulsively wrapped her arms round the slight figure standing over the sink. She smiled into the fabric of the shirt that covered his back as he squeezed her arms with his elbows and leaned back into her. "Thank you for letting me get to know you, String," she said, in a voice that was soft with emotion.

"I think it's time you stopped calling me String and called me dad," whispered back String. "And I'm also sorry that we lost all that time together."

"It's OK, Dad, from all accounts I was an absolute horror growing up," said Michelle. "At least now I'm all grown you don't have to be responsible for all my f&*kups OR take the blame for them!"

"Hey, hey, is that any way for a highly-respected aeronautics lecturer at the University of San Diego to talk? You're not too old for me to paddle yet, you know!" laughed String.

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

Michelle shifted her weight impatiently from one leg to the other. Dom had entrusted her with collecting Cait from LAX and flying her to the cabin, where they were spending the weekend with String, on the pretext of her picking up groceries for all three of them. This reunion, although her idea, had been logistically worked out to perfection by Dom, whose mind was as sharp as ever. Although she hadn't spent a lot of time with her father's best friend, she knew that there was a strong bond between them. And that her father wouldn't be the man he was today without the guiding hand of Dominic Santini. She wondered if what she was planning was the right thing. She knew that her father was lonely, even though they kept in touch by telephone and email (she had bought String a Blackberry that he was totally enamoured with) she could sense the wistfulness in his voice. She wondered which of the women in his checkered past had broken his heart so much that he had been unable to commit or settle down with any one of them.

Spotting a red head in the crowd, Michelle strained to see if it was the Cait she had heard so much about. Deciding that it was, Michelle waved and made her way towards her.

"Cait?"

"You must be Michelle," said Cait, looking into the steel-blue eyes that reminded her so much of String's.

"I sure am. It's nice to meet you, Cait, I've heard SO much about you."

"And I've heard a lot about you!" Cait's eyes twinkled at the memory of Dom's excited voice bellowing down the phone, at the first opportunity he got while String was out of earshot.

"I don't mean to rush you, but Dad'll get suspicious if I'm gone too long. He thinks I've gone out for groceries and 'woman things', as he puts it," said Michelle with a grin.

"Where are we meeting Michael and Marella?"

"Out by the helipad. I can't wait to see the look on Dad's face when I turn up with all of you!"

"Well, to be honest, Michelle, he doesn't normally like surprises…not like this."

"Yup, and I'm prepared to take the flak for it! Besides, I've been dying to meet you. Dad has told me so much about you, and he gets this look in his eyes…"

"I know the one!" Cait erupted into peals of laughter.

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA**

Cait looked in admiration at the grown woman next to her. She could see certain mannerisms – tilt of the head, that intense look of concentration and constant, small corrections that made it seem like the helicopter was an extension of her body – that reminded her a lot of String. His girl certainly inherited his love of flying, and his intense blue eyes. She wondered if having his daughter in his life had changed String at all, or if he was the same old Stringfellow Hawke that they all knew and loved. She stole a glance at the couple in the back seat. Michael and Marella sat, holding hands, chattering excitedly into their radio headsets. They didn't look all that much different – just a little older, a little greyer. She smiled at the story they were relating about their twin girls, who were grown with families of their own.

"Uh oh, he's heard us," said Michelle as her keen eyes noticed the movement of the cabin's front door. "Hats and sunnies on, everyone!"

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA**

String stood at his kitchen sink, elbow-deep in suds. His friends and daughter were sat around the fire, on the well- worn sofas, busy catching up and telling old and new stories. Although he enjoyed their company, he just wanted a few moments of solitude – and decided the least offensive way was to do the washing up. Trouble was curled up by the fire, his head resting on Cait's lap. He tried to look at Cait without making it too obvious. Her red mop, shot through with grey, glowed in the firelight. Her slight body had filled out, presumably with the birth of her children, but she looked well. Her milky-white freckled skin seemed to be as freckled as ever, punctuated with lines that he didn't remember. He looked away quickly as Cait got gracefully to her feet.

"Hey, you're gonna turn into a wrinkled 'ol prune if you soak in these suds any longer," said Cait, in her characteristic Texan drawl. "Or is it one of your beauty secrets?"

String reached for a dry dishcloth as he turned to face her. "I AM a wrinkled 'ol prune."

"Yeah, so am I," said Cait with a soft sigh. "How are you doing, String?"

"Fine, I guess."

"You know, not a day goes by without me thinking of you… guys."

"Every time I come up here I see you everywhere, Cait." Clearing his throat somewhat nervously, String then asked, "Wanna get some fresh air?"

"Sure, I could do with a walk. That lot won't miss us for a while," added Cait, making her way to the back door.

**AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWA**

Cait had taken about five steps on the path leading from the back door of the cabin to the lake, when she felt warm fingers twine around her own. Squeezing gently, she continued walking, knowing that String would talk when he was ready. She was sure that this walk was a ploy, and he had something he wanted to say to or discuss with her. "_Some things never change_," she thought to herself." _Wonder how long it'll take him to open his mouth_?"

She didn't have to wait long. As they got to the lake shore, a scant twenty paces away, she felt String gently tug her to a stop. She felt him slowly turn her to face him, and gentle fingers tilt her chin up into his gaze.

"I wanted to tell you I missed you."

"I've missed you too, String. It hurts when Dom calls and you only say a few words," chided Cait gently. "We've always been good friends, and I know your silences speak volumes, but I'm not a mind reader."

"Sorry. It's hard for me."

"String, it was hard for you when I was standing right here, like I am now. Why should it be easier when I'm hundreds of miles away?" Cait could feel frustration welling up in her, along with tears. How many times had she wished that he would come right out and tell her how he felt about her? Eventually she had thrown up the same walls around her heart, and smiled the tears away, pretending that they were better off as friends. Well, it hurt less anyway. It was easier when she was on the ranch, where there were fewer memories for her to deal with.

String took a deep breath. Deciding that words would fail him at this crucial moment, he leaned forward and captured Cait's lips in his own. His arms slid around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

Cait's hazel green eyes opened wide in shock. This was not what she expected. Yes, they had kissed before, but not like this. There was something in that kiss that told her that String was finally ready to confess his feelings for her. She enjoyed the kiss for a few moments more, before gently pushing him away.

"Hey, I wasn't expecting that," Cait said softly, as she pulled back enough so she could look into his eyes. The guarded look she remembered so well was gone. In its place, she saw vulnerability. "_Uh oh, the dam's about to break_," she thought to herself.

"I love you, Cait. I'm sorry I haven't said it before. I keep thinking about you and….I was hoping that you would feel the same way….about me…." String's voice trailed away uncertainly.

Cait bit her lip. One part of her was dancing around in elation – FINALLY! He had FINALLY told her how he felt. The other part of her was draped in melancholy. She knew that what she felt for him now was not the passionate love of her youth. The friendship between them had been rather strained over the years. When she did speak to him on the phone, she got the impression that he disapproved of the choices she had made. After all, she had told herself firmly before she left for Texas that they were just friends, nothing more – and she couldn't waste any more of her life sitting around waiting for him. She wasn't sure that she should allow herself to be hurt by this man again.

Swallowing hard and hoping that she wouldn't wound him too deeply, Cait took a deep breath before she answered. "String, you know I love you. That I've always loved you. But one of the biggest reasons why I went back to Texas was so that my heart could heal. I kept hoping and waiting for you to say that you loved me, and every time I saw you with one of your girlfriends my heart would break into tiny pieces. Honestly, String, I'm not sure I CAN do this with you…" Cait's voice trailed away.

"I know I've been an idiot and a jerk. And I've hurt you terribly. And I KNOW it's been 20 odd years, but believe me Cait, I've wanted to say that to you for a long time, the time was just never right."

"So what are you saying, String?"

"There's never been anyone else for me but you."

"Oh, String…." Cait reached out and brushed his hair gently with her fingers. "I'm just not sure that a relationship between us would work, not after all these years, that's all."

"I'd like to try," said String, sticking his chin out and fixing her with that penetrating stare that she remembered so well – a sure sign that he was determined to try – or die trying.

"String, I'm not going to beat around the bush. If you said this to me before I left for Texas, Hell, even for a few years after I left, I would have leapt at the chance. But now, I've gotten used to MY life, my grandchildren, and the ranch. I don't know if I can give you what you want, or if you can give me what you want."

"Is that a no, Cait?" String heard his own voice come out as a toneless monotone.

Cait kept quiet for several seconds. After what seemed to be an eternity, she reached out with both hands and captured String's work-roughened ones in hers. "No, Stringfellow Hawke, that's not a no. But can we please start with repairing our friendship first? I'm not so sure about us, if I have anything left to give you, but I'd like to try. I don't want us both going through the rest of our lives wondering what if. Just promise me one thing – no guilt, please, if we don't work out?"

String felt elation bubbling up from somewhere deep inside him. With Cait beside him(well, maybe), his daughter in his life, and his friends around him, living proof of the stuff his memories were made of, he mentally counted his blessings. Maybe from this point on he could leave some of his melancholy behind.

"C'mon, I think we'd better get back – the others will be wondering where we are!" said Cait with a girlish grin, tugging at the hand she held.

"Whoa, take it easy, these old legs don't go so quickly anymore," grinned String, allowing himself to be pulled along the path.

**THE END **


End file.
